


The Hottest Part of the Fire

by fyredancer



Series: Desire [2]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sequel, twincest not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when it seems like things might fall apart, Tom has some news that may bring them closer than ever. If Bill will let him share it...</p><p>This is a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/680354">The Blue of Desire</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this basically because cynical_terror sent me the scenario and it flagged me down and said "...hey!" Thank you for loving these boys along with me.
> 
> Many thanks to ma_chelle for being my patient beta and helping me with the mistakes, and chicaintcheap for putting up with me. And many, many thanks to all of the @'s on Twitter in staunch support of this lil' idea. Also, thank you to pseudoblu and kishmet for the hand-holding when I most needed it. ._.

Bill Trumper was having one hell of a day, and didn't care who knew it.

For starters he'd been late to class, after his sleepy horndog of a boyfriend had kept him late abed before ultimately denying him completion. After Tom had teased him up and let him down, all but pushing him away and rushing out the door, Bill had rushed through a hasty shower and the essentials of his grooming routine. Breakfast had consisted of coffee and a slice of toast he'd wolfed down on the way to the bus, wishing all the while that they'd slept over at Tom's the night before because at least then he could snag a ride from Andreas into campus.

There was no escaping the morning not-so-quickie with Tom, though.

The professor presiding over Bill's first class this semester was a dragon, and all the cheerful smiles or beautiful spring mornings in the world could not keep her from putting him down for a tardy in her grade book. Honestly, who even handed out tardies anymore? They were in _college_ , for god's sake. The morning had gone downhill after that. Bill had forgotten his music for the one-on-one vocals session he'd had after that, resulting in a wasted hour. He'd mixed up a homework assignment when shoving papers into his backpack, bringing something to turn in to his literature elective when he had a music through the ages class that day.

To top it all off, Tom had skipped out on him for lunch, and they _always_ had lunch together. Always. It was their thing, their usual.

Bill began to compose a text to Tom, but every time he did, it started with ' _you jackass_ ' so he deleted it and turned his screen off, shoving his phone in his clutch with an irritated snort.

He hunched at the corner table on the student union terrace that he thought of as 'theirs,' glowering off into the middle distance and shoving food into his mouth in between bouts of scowling. No matter how irritated he was, he could still put food away.

First Tom had turned him down for sex that morning, and now Tom had ditched him for lunch. Bill was morbidly, unreasonably, melodramatically convinced that this was the beginning of the end. Tom had never professed to be anything but straight, after all, and his relationship with Bill was the first he'd ever had that lasted beyond one night, one fuck.

Bill crammed the last of his curly fries into his mouth in one immense bite and contemplated the pathetic lack of notifications on his phone. He'd dragged it back out after his aborted attempts to express his feelings via text to Tom. If someone messaged him, he wanted to be on top of it.

Of course, no one had.

"No one loves me," he mumbled around his half-chewed food. He knew he was reaching a pinnacle of absurdity but Bill was unaccustomed to being blown off, and most especially not for what amounted to a standing date.

A lot had changed for Bill Trumper over the past six months, and only part of it had to do with the change of seasons and semesters. He had a new schedule, he had what essentially amounted to a live-in boyfriend, Tom had changed his major and upended his own previously-planned schedule for the semester to compensate, and there were days where they barely saw each other until they both got home. That is, when Tom spent the night.

At last the time on Bill's phone display informed him it was time to get up and go, no matter how much he wanted to malinger. He heaved a sigh and stood, grabbing his lunch tray. Plates slid precariously to one side and Bill grumbled. He was too used to Tom carrying his tray.

"This is not the usual," Bill bitched to himself, balancing his tray and pocketing his phone.

For someone like Bill, for whom change was a constant factor in life, he treasured the few rituals or certainties that he could count on. Brunch with "the ladies" - the group of wider friends he'd made in freshman year, some of whom still lived in his ex-dorm, some who'd moved on to apartments of their own. Pizza and movie nights with his best buds, Andreas and Tom. Bill and Tom were together now, but they were still best friends. And lunch with Tom had been a staple of Bill's college existence for almost as long as he could recall.

Bill knew Tom's schedule to a 'T,' and he knew there was nothing to prevent him from meeting Bill for lunch. Barring some act of god or sudden emergency, which he would have told Bill, today's absence was inexplicable. On top of the 'no sex' dictate this morning, it was worrisome.

Setting out across one of the concrete sidewalks that crossed diagonally over the brilliant green Quad, Bill nibbled on his lip as he wrestled with his fears. A part of him had wondered, for a fleeting instant, if Tom was growing tired of him.

Having gone from virginity to an active sex life, Bill now considered skipping a day for any reason to be deprivation. He didn't even bother to masturbate anymore; Tom was all over him enough to satisfy both their libidos.

Usually.

That reminded him. Bill dug his phone out and emailed himself a reminder. _BUY CONDOMS._ He'd grabbed one out of the box the other day to 'practice' putting it on Tom with his mouth, and they had been running low. Truth be told, there wasn't much left to practice, but any excuse that got Tom's motor running and ready to tap his ass... After a moment of consideration, he added, _AND MORE LUBE._

It was a beautiful day and Bill was determined to enjoy it. He'd get on Tom's case later for not being forthcoming.

Forgiving the withholding would take him a bit longer.

Afternoon classes passed at a snail's pace. Bill doodled in his notebooks, checked his phone compulsively for notifications, tried not to yawn and betray the depth of his boredom, and reminisced over spring break. Tom had convinced him to go to Fort Lauderdale with him instead of having his parents buy him something from a fashion spring collection, as he'd originally planned. Being with Tom weighed higher than couture, if by a slim margin. Bill's step-dad had resisted, but for some reason Bill's mother was utterly charmed by Tom and had argued in favor.

They might as well have stayed home, of course; they had hardly left the room all week. 

The week had been full of plenty of partying and dancing, of course. But what Bill had remembered most was the bed, and the loveseat, and rug-burn from the carpet, and pulling the shower rod down when they showered together. The sex, _being_ together, had been the most memorable part of the week, though drinking and clubbing and sprawling out on the beach for post-hangover sunning had played vital roles as well. Doing everything with Tom, spending that much uninterrupted time together with no commitments or schedule beyond what they made together, had been bliss.

Bill's last class of the day was a music workshop. No matter what other dull or requisite courses Bill had to take to earn his degree, he could count on music to buoy him up at the end of the day, and remind him why he slogged through the boring crap. Tom had picked up a lot of music classes, too, and shifted his focus from accounting to business music. His father hadn't been able to complain _too_ much.

By the time the bell rang, Bill had almost forgotten his pique over the day's disappointments. He shoved his silent, useless phone into his clutch for the umpteenth time. The notes in his head were still rather blue, dull blah modifiers that turned the pure, joyful major notes he'd been singing into sour minor ones.

He stepped outside the musty-smelling confines of the older building. Halfway down the stone steps, it began to rain.

"Oh, come _on_!" Bill cried, making an evil face at two pastel-dolled girls who paused in the act of unfolding umbrellas to stare at him. "I'm having a shitcake clusterfuck of a day."

One of the girls wrinkled her nose in a cute, sympathetic grimace and the two of them hurried off.

Bill folded his arms tightly over his front, shoving his clutch into his armpit to make sure there was no risk of his phone getting wet, and hurried in the direction of the bus stop. It was only half a block away but he hated, absolutely hated, getting wet. Already the light sprinkle was smattering over his bangs and dripping down onto his makeup and it wouldn't be long before he looked like a drowned raccoon.

"Hey baby, forget your umbrella?" a familiar voice husked into his ear. The enormous dome of a super-sized umbrella settled into place over him, and a tall, rangy figure fell into step beside him. Tom Kaulitz had put in an appearance at last. Bill's boyfriend was tanned, handsome, had the lean sporty figure that came of running every day, and was grinning all over his fool face.

"Too stupid to check the weather report," Bill groused, keeping his arms tightly folded although his mouth tugged upward despite his grumpy mood. "And I'm not your baby."

Tom leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. "Honey?" he suggested.

Bill screwed up his face in disgust. "Is gross and sticky," he declared. "Trying to tell me something?"

"Love muffin?" Tom continued, leaning in as though to nip at Bill's earlobe.

"Ew, don't be ridiculous!" Bill exclaimed, jerking away. He kept his arms folded in a standoffish, defensive pose.

Tom frowned over him. It was a long-standing joke between them for Tom to try out all manner of endearments, and for Bill to reject them, yet Tom usually ended up defaulting to baby anyhow. Today there was something a good deal more vehement in Bill's snappish tone.

"Something wrong?" Tom prompted at last, shambling beside him. The bottoms of his jeans, dragging the ground around his feet, were soaked through and yet he didn't seem to care. It was the hazard of his hip-hop influenced sense of style, which Bill had been begging Tom to revise since they'd officially gotten together. Bill had made zero progress so far. Tom wore his jeans low and baggy and his shirts even baggier, and Bill could take him as he was or leave him. Since leaving wasn't an option so far as Bill was concerned, putting up with the oversized clothes had to be.

"Shitcake clusterfuck day," Bill mumbled in the direction of the sidewalk. He lifted his head to fix Tom with a glare. "And you didn't help, what with getting me all riled up and sending me to shower without... _without._ "

"Oh." Tom had the grace to look sheepish, and brought his free hand up to rub beneath the pile of his dreadlocks, a dark blond and light brown waterfall of raveled hair that he kept gathered up behind a New Era cap. "Um, we were out of condoms."

Bill stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare incredulously at him. "So fucking _blow me_ ," he hissed, and he didn't mean it as an insult.

"I panicked!" Tom admitted, looking far too cheerful about that. He kept the umbrella held steady over both of them as he reached for Bill's elbow, as though to get them both moving up the sidewalk again. "Do you know what day it is, Bill?"

Bill jerked out of range. "Don't think you're going to get out of this by declaring some kind of impromptu holiday and giving me something..."

"It's not a holiday," Tom said, his expression intent and strangely gentle as he reached for Bill again, switching the umbrella to his other hand. He managed to get hold of Bill's elbow, this time. "Though I do have something for you. Um. More than one something, maybe, if you can get over being pissed at me for flaking on you this morning."

Bill held himself stiff. He wasn't letting Tom off so easy, promises notwithstanding. "And over lunch," he reminded him.

"Oh, about that," Tom said, and his face lit up. "Come on, Bill. Come on, please don't stay mad. I want to share something with you."

Bill sighed. He let himself be drawn forward with only minimal resistance as Tom pulled him, one-armed, against his chest. Bill sighed again, inhaling Tom's scent, warm clean-smelling boy and a touch of masculine woodsy cologne, coconut dread-wax and a trace of laundry soap; everything that meant Tom and comfort and love to him. "Had a shitty day," he said against Tom's throat, tucking himself into Tom's shoulder even though they were of a height.

"I'm sorry," Tom soothed, stroking over his back and gathering Bill securely against him. "I'm really sorry, but...will you let me make it better? Or do you want to talk about it some more?"

"No, it's over," Bill decided, lifting his head. Tom was here; his very presence was lifting Bill's spirits. As always, his complete lack of hesitance or self-consciousness to display affection in public was a big thing, so far as Bill was concerned. "Did you get me something?"

"Um, kind of," Tom said with a laugh. He re-situated them, taking Bill's hand and drawing him up the sidewalk toward the bus stop. "I ran home – I mean, mine and Andi's place – to pick up the mail during lunch."

"What? Why?" Bill said, puzzled. Tom usually went to his own place every third day or so with Bill in tow, and picked up his mail then. He'd been talking about not renewing his lease with Andreas for the junior year and officially moving in with Bill, sharing rent and utilities and everything. The only potential stumbling block was Tom's father, who had hated Bill on first sight and would no doubt threaten to cut Tom's finances off, refusing to fund the room and board with 'the homosexual.'

Tom threaded their fingers together. His brown eyes were warm and bright as he turned his head to meet Bill's confused eyes.

"Want to try something new?" Tom asked him, his eyes crinkling up in a gorgeous smile.

"Sure," Bill said slowly. He was always up for something new with Tom. Not every single new act had been amazing – there had been one move that left Tom practically hamstrung for days after, and Bill vividly remembered his first attempt at deep-throating and he'd insisted they _get rid of_ the sheets after that – but it was almost always good. And when it was good, it usually ranged from good to fantastic.

"You asked me if we could do this a long time ago," Tom said earnestly. He took a breath and continued. "And I wasn't ready then. Bill...I'm ready now."

Bill's brow remained furrowed a moment longer before his expression cleared. Eyes widening, he stared over at Tom. "You got the test results," he whispered.

Tom began to nod. "Yeah...y-yeah, this morning, when we were out of condoms, I was so disappointed, god...so torn! I wanted to do it, and you wanted to do it, and I remembered they said I should be getting the results today...I almost...I _almost..._ " He squeezed Bill's hand, hard.

"You wanted to do it anyhow," Bill supplied with a grin. He leaned in toward Tom and bumped their foreheads together affectionately. "Dummy, I would've let you. We're both pretty sure of the result, you know?"

Tom nodded. "But 'pretty sure' isn't good enough," he said hoarsely. "I had to get out of there before I did something stupid. I'm sorry, so sorry for leaving you like that, Bill." He nudged forward, his nose nuzzling at the corner of Bill's mouth.

"That's sweet," Bill informed him, and pressed in for a kiss. "That's really...wow, you are _so_ getting lucky." He kissed at Tom's mouth, sealing them together for a blissful instant.

Tom squeezed his hand again and kissed back, licking at the seam of Bill's lips with a low murmur. "So...did you want to open it?" he asked, pulling back when Bill would have pursued the kiss.

"Oh!" Bill exclaimed, flustered. "I didn't know...I mean, I thought you did."

Tom shook his head. "In my pocket," he said. "I ran home and got it, then waited for you after class."

Bill squeaked excitedly and tore his hand out of Tom's grip, huffing when Tom chuckled at him. He delved into Tom's nearest pocket, making Tom squeal like a little girl.

"Don't _tickle_ ," Tom protested, followed quickly by, "nnngod, Bill, are you going to spend all afternoon in there?"

"I'm not giving you a handjob," Bill said. He moved in close enough to nip at Tom's ear. "Not here on the street, anyhow." He fished a partly-crumpled letter envelope out of Tom's baggy jean pocket and held it up in triumph.

They grinned at each other.

"Open it," Tom urged, but Bill was already slicing the envelope at its top edge with his index nail.

He pulled a folded slip out of the ragged halves of the envelope. Bill held his breath and caught Tom's eye, promising himself either way things would continue to be good, they'd keep using condoms if Tom was positive for anything, get him treatment. He'd had his own second test a week ago and nearly forgot that he'd gotten a prompt negative result days later. It didn't matter until Tom got his result, too.

Tom gave him a small, tense nod. They grasped the slip of paper between both their hands and flipped it open.

Bill scanned down squiggles of black text, his heart giving him a few lurching irregular thuds. If it didn't matter, why was he so pent up, nervous? He picked out a block of bold letters.

"Negative," he said aloud, and collapsed against Tom's shoulder.

Tom's arm squeezed tight around him and they both let out an explosive breath. "Well, what did you think it was going to be?" Tom questioned with a laugh.

Bill jolted his hip against Tom's. "Negative, I knew it was going to be negative!" he exclaimed. "With all of that build-up, though, you know you got me all wound up!"

"Maybe I want to wind you up," Tom said, looming close with hot breath lapping against Bill's ear.

Bill grinned over at him. "At home," he said, and couldn't stop himself from grinning yet more widely. "So. I had condoms on the to-buy list."

"I'd say you can cross them right off," Tom replied. "No more condoms. I mean, none unless you want to keep a few for when you want to do it without a mess. But in a little bit, when we get home..."

Bill shivered. "I am so turned on right now," he whispered. "Let's get home _fast_ , okay?" He leaned into the arm that Tom hooked around him again and they hurried for the bus stop together, Tom's large, wind-vented umbrella keeping them sheltered from fitful sprays of rain.

Sex without a condom. Bill had asked for it, months ago – six months, to be precise. He wanted naked skin against naked skin, Tom's dick inside him with nothing between them.

Back then, Tom had denied him, wanting to be safe until they were both sure. Bill thought it was excessive, getting tested and waiting six months and getting tested again, but it was better than the _year_ that Tom had proposed after his first doctor's visit. Bill had railed and sulked and wheedled until Tom had defaulted to the original target date of six months. Now they were negative - never had a word with such connotations been so glorious - and Bill and Tom were going to _do it_ for real.

Bill shivered in the half-embrace of Tom's arm and shared a delighted little smile with him. They were going bareback, and he couldn't wait. It wasn't simply because he'd heard it could be 'better' without a condom; he wanted to be close to Tom that way largely for the symbolism, as well. Tom was the first person he'd ever let so deeply into his heart, the first person with whom he'd made love, and Bill didn't want any barriers between them, not even a condom.

They reached the protected area of the bus stop and Tom kept Bill tucked by his side. He petted and stroked him one-handed until Bill turned in his arm and they faced each other.

"Hey," Bill said, breathless. He grasped at the neck of Tom's shirt, fingers curling pale against Tom's tanned skin.

"Hey," Tom replied, low-voiced. He bumped their noses together, tipped his head to the side, and kissed Bill.

Bill wasn't much for overt displays of public affection, not the serious makeout and humping kind, anyhow. He liked it when Tom linked their hands, put an arm around him, or even grabbed Bill in an effusive hug sometimes, but Bill had always thought that anything more crossed the line in terms of tackiness even before he'd been in a relationship.

At the moment, Bill was aware of nothing but Tom's lips on his, warm and coaxing his to pliancy, arms winding around him to keep him sheltered and safe and loved. Tom's tongue against his made the petty irritations of the day melt to nothing. They kissed and all Bill knew was the press and slide of Tom's lips on his, the soft hungry noises that escaped him until Tom slanted his mouth down on Bill's more firmly, the tongue that teased and inflamed him, thrusting and twining against his with wordless promise.

He produced a little whine in the back of his throat when Tom began to pull away. "Mmn, no," he protested.

"The bus is here," Tom said with a chuckle. He tugged a tuft of Bill's dark hair and darted in for a quick kiss before pulling away. "Come on, let's get home, the bus is here."

Bill grumbled, but was lead easily enough as Tom tugged him to follow onto the Red line. They flashed their student ID cards at the driver and sought out a double seat near the back, beside the rear door to give them a bit of privacy and make it easy to leave. After plunking down beside Tom, Bill twined his foot around Tom's ankle and leaned against him, sighing happily when Tom settled his arm across the back.

"What are we doing for summer?" Tom asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Bill responded with great cleverness, lifted from a vivid fantasy regarding Tom's naked cock, which was hopefully about to be enacted in short order. He'd been an avowed bisexual since about thirteen, but he was beginning to wonder if he really was gay, considering how much he loved cock. Tom's cock, to be specific, given that he hadn't thought or fantasized about any others. He loved it in his mouth, in his ass, any way he could get it in him, really.

There he went again, fixating on Tom's cock. "What about this summer?" He patted Tom's thigh.

"I can barely go one night without being with you, even when I've got deadlines coming out the...the yin-yang," Tom said. He played his fingers along the side of Bill's jaw and Bill nuzzled his face up into the touch. "I can't even imagine getting through a whole summer without waking up to this beautiful face every day."

"What is it about you and my face?" Bill asked rhetorically, ducking his head as an involuntary smile took hold of him at Tom's teasing. Dismay seized him the next instant as the impact of Tom's words registered. "Oh, no. Nooo. Want to come live with us for the summer? My mom likes you." Tom had visited for Christmas vacation, showing up and surprising Bill on New Year's Eve to whisk him away for fun and excitement and fabulous kisses leading into even more fabulous lovemaking.

When Tom had returned Bill to his home the next day, Bill's mom had ushered him right in and plied Tom with an enormous breakfast as though it was her mission in life to feed him. She'd made it clear that Tom was welcome in their family.

"There's an idea," Tom murmured. "And we could place bets as to how long it would be until I overstayed my welcome." His fingers played up Bill's jaw again.

"Ugh, why do you have to live so far?" Bill complained. "Over an hour, considering traffic. Let's run away together. Or go volunteer as camp counselors."

Tom chuckled warmly against his ear. "Then we definitely wouldn't get laid all summer," he said, patting the hand Bill had on his thigh. "I've done camp before. They've got a strict code of conduct and if you cross it, they kick you out."

Bill sighed through his nose. "I'll think of something," he said, twining his leg more tightly around Tom's. "We can't go the whole summer only seeing each other on weekends. We just _can't_." He laid his head on Tom's shoulder.

"Bill...what if we started a band?" Tom suggested. "If we were working together, and had gigs, we'd have practice, and maybe some overnight trips...we'd be together way more."

"I like it!" Bill exclaimed, instantly enthused. His two favorite things, Tom and singing, combined. They had performed beautifully at the Lehardt competition and Bill was always thrilled when Tom played for him. "God, I couldn't even let myself think of summer. I'm so happy you said it first – I was absolutely wretched to think of not waking up next to you for the whole two-month break."

"Well, hopefully you won't have to, too much," Tom told him in a low voice. He stroked his fingers along Bill's jaw. "If we make enough, maybe we could get a little apartment together for the summer, you know?"

"Mmm, stop talking about it," Bill murmured, nuzzling Tom's shoulder. "You'll get my hopes up; then if it doesn't happen..."

"Well, there's still that spare room your mom likes me too much not to offer," Tom teased.

Bill grinned over at him. "She's not stupid, you know," he remarked. "You'd try to sneak over to my room in the middle of the night and find yourself locked in."

"Damn," Tom said. He lifted up an endlessly long arm and reached for the pull-string that would call a stop to the bus driver. "You ready to get off?"

Bill was suddenly breathless. "I've _been_ ready," he affirmed. "You're the one who's been making me wait."

He had to steady himself against Tom's strong shoulder as he got up from his seat, a combination of nerves and shaky knees depriving him of balance for an instant. The flash of Tom's grin drew him on as they disembarked from the bus. The rain had stopped pattering its metallic dirge along the bus roof as they went, and Tom folded up the umbrella while he waited for Bill to gather himself at the curb, juggling school bag and clutch and his own spate of gazelle-leggy clumsiness.

Tom gave him a lopsided grin, almost smirk, that made Bill's heart thud in a happy, uneven rhythm as he joined him on the sidewalk. He reached his hand out and they laced their fingers together for the walk back to Bill's apartment, which over the past six months had become home to many of Tom's things as well, from several sets of clothes to change into, assorted toiletries, a New Era cap for every day of the week, and the cherished acoustic guitar.

Things hadn't been all sunshine and morning quickies. Bill had a temper and was quick to jump to conclusions, and Tom was stubborn and had a tendency to harp on certain things when he thought he was right. Bill tended to ignore Tom when he pointed out something that Bill didn't agree with, and Tom could be a bit of a control freak, with a few obsessive-compulsive tics that had blindsided Bill. Overall, though, they meshed well, and Bill had stopped counting anniversaries by monthly increment.

He was looking forward to the year-mark, now, and was more sure of anything in his life that he and Tom would be together for it. And many, many more, he hoped.

"You know," Bill said, swinging their joined hands between them. His briefly diverted train of thought reminded him of something he'd learned in sociology the previous semester. Tom made an inquiring noise. "Our decision-making cortex isn't fully developed until we're twenty-six? Some people think it means that no one should make a commitment until they're, like, thirty." Bill wrinkled his nose. He wasn't fishing, truly, but he was interested to hear Tom's thoughts on the topic.

"That's a load of crap," Tom sat at once. "Everybody should take commitment on an individual basis, you know? Some people are better-suited to commitment than others. Some people are way more mature than their peers. And, you know, if you've got a sure thing...something that's the best thing in your life...what would be stupider, letting it go, or giving the commitment that will make both of you happy?"

Bill glanced over at him, trying not to smile and failing; not much caring about that, and totally fixed on the way Tom was looking back at him with warm brown eyes and the hint of a smile. "Got someone in particular in mind, Tom?"

"I think it would be stupid to let the love of my life go just because of some stupid theory about decision-making cortices, that's all," Tom replied, his generous mouth curving upward. He continued, all innocence, "Why, Bill? Did _you_ have someone in mind?"

"Oh, shut it," Bill said, nudging Tom with his elbow. He squawked as Tom pulled him off-balance.

Tom cracked up, pressed a sloppy kiss to his ear, and helped set him to rights again. "Admit it; once you've gone Kaulitz, you can never go back."

"Back to virginity?" Bill quipped. "You're right about that much."

Tom tugged him back against his side, hand gripping Bill's upper arm tightly. He looked straight ahead as they continued to walk. "Before you...I honestly couldn't imagine being with anyone more than one night, or wanting to." A smile touched his lips. "Now that I _am_ with someone I want to be with for this night, and the next, and the next...I never want to give it up. I want _you_ , Bill. I think we can make it happen."

Bill grinned over at Tom, aware that it was foolish and sappy and overtly love-struck, and he didn't give a damn. This was how he was with Tom. This was what Tom did to him. Bill had been the odd one out for his whole life; he planned on beating his peers in this respect, too.

He'd found the kind of love that made him never want to let go. Somehow, he was lucky enough that Tom felt the same way.

Tom pulled his hand free of Bill's, giving him a curl of a smirk when Bill's goofy grin segued into confusion. "First one there gets to pick position," he said, and tagged Bill's hand. He grabbed his jeans, hitched them up with both hands, and broke into a run.

"That's not _fair!_ " Bill wailed, half-tempted to tug off one of his wedge heels and _throw_ it after Tom. His boyfriend was a former track team member, and could easily outstrip Bill even in his baggy jeans. It was sheer pique that had him lurching forward in a desperate sprint. He yelled after Tom, "If I trip and break my ankle in these heels, the only position I'll be is _in traction!_ "

Tom came to a dead stop on the sidewalk, whipping around with a concerned expression. "I didn't think about that--" he began, chagrined.

Bill sped past him, wobbly but determined on his heeled platforms. "Sucker!" he declared, and stuck his tongue out. The school bag was sliding off his shoulder and his knees were giving him warning twinges, but the look of shock on Tom's face was worth it.

"You brat!" Tom declared, shambling after him, but the damage was done.

Bill made the last stretch to the stairs that led to his apartment on a burst of adrenaline. A stitch of pain was searing up his side, reminding him that he really didn't engage in much of anything that could be considered cardio, outside of sex. He clung to the black iron railing that lined the stairs and wheezed until Tom caught up with him, brows quirked. Infuriatingly, Tom wasn't even out of breath.

"You're a cheater," Tom accused, leaning in for a kiss.

"Who cheated first?" Bill countered. He curled against Tom's warm front as Tom tugged him against his body for a second.

"Yeah, yeah."

They climbed the stairs together at a more leisurely pace. At the door, Bill fumbled with his key twice until Tom laughed and took the keyring out of his hand to unlock the door.

"Shut up," Bill said, shaky. "We're going to have _sex_. How do you expect me to be able to concentrate on small tasks?"

Tom chuckled again. "So what have we been doing up until now, if not sex?"

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice."


	2. Chapter 2

In Bill's tidy little studio apartment, there was a place for everything. There had to be, or everything would devolve rapidly into chaos. Today, Bill didn't give a damn for order. He dropped his bag to one side, his clutch to another, and kicked his boots off as he wound his arms around Tom, who made an eager noise and tossed his umbrella somewhere. Nothing broke or shattered, so Bill didn't even think where it might have landed. Tom's lips were descending on his, warm and somewhat dry, and his arms wound around Bill to pull him close.

"What do you want to do?" Tom murmured, cupping a warm, broad hand against Bill's cheek. "You won. Cheater."

Bill chuckled and turned his head, kissing Tom's fingers. "Oh, shut up. Like you're not going to enjoy what comes next, no matter what position. And you _know_ what I want..."

"Bill," Tom began to interrupt, eyes clouding over. They both had their favorite positions; Tom liked to do Bill on his back, so they could be face to face and Tom could look at and kiss him, and Bill really enjoyed being draped over Tom's lap, his thighs bracketing Tom's, Tom's sculpted chest and abs pressing full-length along Bill's back as he pushed up into Bill. They could kiss in either position, really, but Tom had a bit of a fixation on looking at Bill's face when they were doing it. It had gotten them where they were together, so Bill could hardly complain.

"Bareback," Bill continued, flashing Tom a coy, knowing smile.

"Ohh," Tom said, and sucked in his bottom lip. He whimpered and his hands descended to Bill's lip. "Oh, yes, please. Can we? I want to, so bad."

Bill pressed another kiss to Tom's lips, lavishing attention on the piercing that adorned the left side of his full mouth. "Mm-hmm." He didn't care so much about positions, today. Anything that let them come together was ace so far as he was concerned. They could do Tom's favorite, or his, or both. There was an idea, both...

As Tom began to tug at Bill's belt, Bill took the hint and reached up, stripping his shirt off and tossing it to the side. He'd pick up later. Right now, all he wanted was Tom's hot, sweaty skin against his, lips on lips and their hardening cocks pressed together...with an anxious noise he reached up to tug on Tom's black and white diamond-checked New Era cap as Tom divested him of his pants.

"Get naked," Bill demanded. "Come on, I need to see you, touch you."

"I'm right here; you can touch all you want," Tom murmured back, but he was nodding agreement. He eased his cap and beanie off over his long, twisted bunches of hair. Bill attacked Tom's pants as though he had a grudge against them - actually, he kind of did - and stroked eager hands over Tom's washboard stomach as Tom peeled his shirt off.

"Oh, god," Bill said, and pressed forward into Tom's arms.

"Oof." Tom fielded his armful of Bill and kissed him open-mouthed as they ground together. "Bed, let's get to the bed."

"We've done it by the door before," Bill mumbled, spreading as much of his bare skin against Tom's as possible. They were still wearing boxers and socks, but that was it. The rest was nudity, glorious nudity, and Bill wanted even more.

"Yeah, and got some scraped knees and one of your spike heels impaled me," Tom said with a laugh. "C'mon, Bill. I want to make this good. Good means bed." He kissed Bill, brief but unhurried, open-mouthed with a hint of tongue before pulling away and giving Bill the sex look.

Bill's knees puddled. "Okay," he acquiesced. From the very first, he'd been unable to deny Tom, even when he'd thought Tom wanted to do it with him out of curiosity rather than love.

Tom's arms went around him and Bill grasped at Tom's nape, burying his fingers in the fall of soft woolly dreadlocks, promising himself he'd make sure Tom took out the tie before their intimacy progressed too much further. They kissed again, Tom rubbing his mouth softly to one corner of Bill's, and Bill gasped as Tom grasped at his thighs.

"Up," Tom mumbled against his mouth.

"Show-off," Bill husked, giving a little hop against Tom's body, trusting him to catch and hold his thin frame, as he did without hesitance.

Tom grabbed Bill on his thighs near the swells of his ass, hauling Bill's slight body up into his arms. Their mouths caught at each other again, open and hungry as Tom carried him back toward the bed. Bill's boxer-clad bulge rubbed and ground against Tom's belly and they both moaned.

“Ahh...ahh,” Bill's exhalations gusted over Tom's lips before he joined their mouths again. He was so anxious, he was helpless to do more than utter frantic noises as he tried to spread himself all over Tom. They had done it before in heat and urgency, so desperate for each other that they could barely contain themselves, spurring one another onward in desire. This was so different. Bill licked and nibbled at Tom's lip, trying to gentle the kiss even as Tom's tongue slid into his mouth and made him release a low desperate noise again.

The studio apartment wasn't very big. It took Tom a handful of backward steps until he was sinking onto the bed with Bill riding his stomach and hips. They kissed again, rubbing their mouths together, and Tom sank his tongue into Bill's mouth again, seeking.

“What do you want to...Bill? What do you want to do?” Tom mumbled against his wet lips, tugging at Bill's hair to keep their mouths apart for a fraction of a moment.

“Fuck,” Bill said shakily, unable to think too much about it because he was overloaded enough as it was. “Want everything.”

“You get to choose the position,” Tom reminded him, dropping his head to mouth along Bill's collarbone.

Bill nodded, groaned, and pushed his hardening cock against Tom's stomach as Tom hit a sensitive spot and sucked ever so gently, his lips forming a seal that might leave a hickey if he lingered. “Back...put me on my back.” As Tom's eyes lit up, Bill added, “I might change my mind, later. But I want to lie down while you kiss me from my mouth to...down there.”

Tom gave him that eager, boyish grin and flipped them with an easy display of strength, tumbling Bill onto his back over the bedspread. Bill moaned and pushed his hips up, hardening further, instantly ready for anything. If Tom lubed himself up right then and told Bill to take it, Bill was sure that he could. “You want to be kissed...down here?” Tom's long fingers stroked Bill through his boxers, nudging below his balls and fingering the stretch of skin behind his scrotum.

Bill bit his lip and nodded vigorously. “Yes, please, yes.” He pushed his pelvis up.

The first time that Tom had done that for him it had been spring break and they'd been drunk as fuck, and Bill had finished showering after a late-night pool party that had broken up somewhere around four a.m. Breathless and laughing from a narrow escape from the cops, they had tumbled into bed and the next thing Bill knew, he was face-down in the rumpled covers yelling the roof down as Tom buried his face in Bill's ass. He'd loved it, shooting his load into the covers before Tom got on him for an extended bout of drunk-sex that concluded with another, more languid orgasm.

Amazingly enough, Tom had been up for repeating the experience when _not_ jazzed on about ten Coronas.

As Bill bucked his hips against Tom, trying to get more friction soonest, Tom flattened him to the bed with a strong hand. “Easy,” he said, still grinning, biting his lip before flicking his tongue at Bill in a brief raspberry. “I'll get us there.” He stroked at the skin of Bill's hips for a moment before pulling his boxer-briefs off with a quick jerk. He gathered the fabric down Bill's thighs and left them tangled near his knees before bending over him to take Bill's mouth in another heady kiss.

“Don't take too long,” Bill warned when Tom pulled back to kiss down the hollow of his throat and dabble a line with his tongue down Bill's chest. “Or I'll get there without you, I swear.”

Tom chuckled, lips pressed to Bill's sternum and sending the sound vibrating through his chest. “You said from your mouth to down there, right?” He knelt up to press a brief, teasing brush of his mouth over Bill's before planting a chain of kisses down his front from jaw to breastbone. “So I'm going to start up there and work my way down...” He nipped and licked at the skin surrounding Bill's left nipple, making it taut with the erotic tease of his tongue before he closed his mouth over it and sucked. His tongue flicked against the hard nub as his mouth drew on it, and Bill cried out.

“You're sensitive today,” Tom murmured in a husky voice, kissing the nipple before playing his tongue against it, rubbing his lips around the little bit of erect flesh.

“I'm so fucking horny today,” Bill corrected, trying to push his hips up again with the weight of Tom on him. They both groaned and Tom humped against him, pushing the cloth mound of his erection against Bill's thigh. “Want you...I want you _in_ me. You're going to be really _in_ me, Tom, you know?”

Tom shivered. “Oh, I know,” he replied in a dark voice, the low rasp that made an appearance when he was being sweet to Bill in bed. He kissed his way over Bill's narrow chest to the other nipple, pulling it between his lips. He worked it with the flick of his tongue and a hint of teeth until Bill raked down Tom's shoulders, crying out in a weak, breathy tone that he hated yet Tom seemed to elicit from him constantly.

“Don't...don't, it's too much,” Bill pleaded.

Tom's hand pressed at Bill's inner thigh, making him spread his legs as Tom moved further down. “You sure? Should I even...?”

Bill growled, momentarily wordless. “Keep going or I'll roll you over and take it,” he threatened at last, panting softly.

A playful expression glinted up at him before Tom lowered his head, placing kisses around Bill's groin. His lips passed achingly near the head of Bill's hard cock before traversing lower, nipping at the skin of his thighs.

“Oh!” Bill gasped, reaching for Tom's dreadlocks. “Ah, ohh, Tom, kiss it, do it right.” He tried to push his hips up again and tugged on Tom's dreads to guide his face to Bill's belly, which was tensed and quivering with expectation denied.

“I'm getting there,” Tom promised. His breath came in faster spurts now, his cheeks flushed and his dark eyes glittering. “Let's get these off...”

Bill squeaked as he was manhandled unceremoniously, his legs thrown over one of Tom's shoulders as Tom worked his boxers down. Once those were stripped away, Tom pulled his socks off for good measure and dumped his legs back onto the bed. He crawled between Bill's legs, giving him a smoldering look. Now Bill folded his knees up and outward, giving Tom total access.

“Tom,” Bill urged, pleading with his tone the way he didn't with actual words. He invoked it like a magic talisman. “Tom, Tom...”

Tom turned his head, pressing another kiss to Bill's thigh. “Bill,” he returned innocently, sitting up and resting his chin on one of Bill's knees. “What do you want, my Bill?”

Bill glowed up at him. He liked 'my Bill' best, a cut above all other endearments. There were plenty of Bills in the world, and a fair share of Toms as well, but only one Tom's Bill so far as he was concerned. He rucked his hips up and crooned, “I want you as turned on for me as I am for you.”

“What makes you think I'm not already there?” Tom challenged, hitching down to position himself between Bill's legs and kissing his thigh again.

“You're not _in_ there,” Bill returned bluntly. His head went back as Tom took his balls in a gentle hand, lifting the waxed-hairless sac out of the way and pressing both thumbs beneath the base. “Oh...ohh.”

Breath fanned against Bill's delicate skin. “Just because I'm trying to make sure you have a good time before I get in there doesn't mean I'm not completely hot for you,” Tom shot back, and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive strip of skin below Bill's balls.

“Ohh,” Bill repeated the wondering noise, intense need thrumming through every nerve and vein. Tom was playing him more skillfully than his beloved guitar.

Tom licked the little strip of flesh over and over, giving it short hasty licks, his nose bumping below Bill's balls. “You want more?” His hot breath gusted over Bill's damp skin. The tip of his tongue emerged to tease Bill again. It dragged slowly over the hot flesh from the tightness of his balls and traveled down toward his hole.

“Oh, ohhh...” The elongated breath left him in a moan. Bill drew in a shuddering breath. “Shower, we should shower first.”

“What? Why?” Tom questioned. An agile finger rubbed further down into Bill's crease, playing over the tight pucker of his hole. “Thought you didn't want to wait.”

“Slow, let's take it slow,” Bill murmured, easing his hips up and inadvertently spreading himself against Tom's face, where he was still poised below Bill's balls. Bill grabbed a pillow and dragging it over his face. He spoke against the thickness of cloth, “I want to be clean for you...”

There was a moment of silence and Bill began to peek from around his shielding pillow, gaining no further impressions from his senses but Tom's panting breath against his perineum. He yelped as he was bundled up into Tom's strong arms and swept off the bed.

“What are you doing!?” Bill exclaimed in shock, but he knew better than to kick or flail. He held tight to Tom's neck as his showoff of a boyfriend carried him the scant distance from bed to the bathroom tucked in the corner of the apartment

“You wanted a shower, right?” Tom returned. A kiss brushed against Bill's temple. “We did that our first time, too.”

Bill's heart warmed and he clung to Tom for another reason, now, inhaling deeply of Tom's scent at the crook of his neck. He remembered how terrified and self-conscious he'd been the first time, when Tom had peeled back the shower curtain and joined him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He'd been so off-kilter he'd barely been able to appreciate the naked lean frame of the man behind him. “This time I won't leave you hanging in the cold,” he promised. When Tom had tried to kiss him for the first time, he'd ducked away in sheer fright, so worried about losing his heart that he hadn't fully acknowledged he'd already given it.

Tom had kept it safe for him, restoring its wholeness by giving his own in return.

Once he was set on his feet, Bill fiddled with the knobs on the shower as Tom shucked his boxers and stripped the curtain aside. They paused to face one another as the stuttering blast of water surged out of the shower head, both of them well aware it would take a moment for the water to heat up no matter what the setting was.

Tom gave him a warm, almost shy smile and reached a hand to cup Bill's face, thumb nudging along his cheekbone in a secondary caress. “I'm so glad it's you,” he told Bill, and leaned forward for a kiss.

Bill grinned against Tom's mouth before giving him a sharp nip. “Who else would it be?” he murmured, before sealing his mouth against Tom's and crowding against him.

“Just you,” Tom assured him when their lips parted. “I've got enough room in my life for a single 'one and only,' and you've got the job.”

Bill chuckled. “So these last six months were the audition?”

Tom arched his brows. “You did say it was practice...”

“Oh, get in the shower,” Bill said, smacking Tom's flank. Tom's eyes widened and he grabbed for Bill, who squeaked and jumped into the tub, grabbing the metal rail affixed to the wall to steady himself, getting out of momentary range of Tom's reaching hands.

Tom delayed a moment longer, finding a long band at the sink that Bill normally used to keep his hair back from his face while he scrubbed it with makeup remover. He used it to twist his dreads up and fix them atop his head, well out of the way of any stray water droplets. Tom held the curtain back and climbed in beside Bill, plucking the soap from Bill's hands and scrubbing it rapidly over one hand to lather it up.

“Let's get you clean,” Tom told him. He stretched to kiss Bill's neck. “So I can finish kissing you.”

“Mmm,” Bill moaned, holding his hair out of the way as Tom drew the tip of his tongue in brief, hot circles over the back of his neck, trailing on down his spine. He had angled the shower head down so that it would hit him mid-chest and lower. Tom didn't need to wash his dreads, and Bill didn't feel like washing his hair a second time that day. “Do it, I need it.” He had showered that morning, but if they were going to have that kind of action, Bill liked to be hygienic, as clean as possible for Tom. He even kept his under-bits waxed. 

Tom's hands settled on his hips though his mouth stayed on Bill's neck, dwelling on the tendons in his left shoulder. He nibbled and sucked; gave him light, sampling kisses, not hard enough to leave bruises but enough so that Bill knew he was there. A soapy hand traveled over Bill's right rear cheek.

“Ah,” Bill gasped, and pressed back against him. “Touch me. Tom, touch me...”

A chuckle traveled through Bill's skin and rumbled near his ear. “I like hearing that a lot better than the 'no, stop,' you gave me the first time.”

Bill pressed a hand to his face, sure he was blushing. “Come on, it was my first time.” He kilted his hips, pressing his rear back against Tom, his lips curving as Tom poked him with something that was definitely not the soap.

“This is like our first time all over again,” Tom told him.

“It's better,” Bill replied. The uncertainty, the free-fall of terror at not knowing what would happen between them was gone. He gasped and bit his lip as a sudsy finger stroked down his cleft, pressing against him with a light but firm touch. “Ah...ahh, Tom!” Two soapy fingers were rubbing against his crease and he tried to shove himself back against them.

“Uh-uh,” Tom grunted, pulling them away. He brought his hand around Bill's hip and cupped it until water spilled into his palm. After rinsing his fingers, he took a palmful of water and brought it back around, sluicing warm liquid down Bill's cleft. “Not putting soapy fingers in you; remember what happened last time?”

“I forgot,” Bill said, penitent. He wanted Tom in him _right now_. Fingers rubbed against him back there again and he moaned, reaching for Tom and grabbing his arm. “Oh god, you could put it in me now; you could put your cock in me _right now_.” He crowded his butt back against Tom, excited at the very thought. Without condoms, they could _do it_ right there, Tom could slip it in him and he could brace himself against the tiles; Tom could connect their bodies in the best way with a minimum of waiting. No stopping to go for condoms.

“Push the shower head down further,” Tom told him.

Panting, Bill reached up and gave it a savage twist. Spray pattered around his feet. One of Tom's hands was on his hip again, stroking slow but insistent before gripping, holding, and Tom's mouth was abruptly lower, moving down Bill's back and kissing wet flesh in passing. Tom was getting onto his knees behind Bill on the shower mat, grabbing the rail with one hand to help lower himself, steadying himself against Bill with the other.

“Oh my god,” Bill said, somewhat faint. The humidity of the steamy air and the imminence of what was about to happen rose up to envelop him in a heady cloud.

“Lean forward, brace yourself so you don't fall,” Tom murmured, kissing the base of his tailbone and flicking his tongue into the top of Bill's crease.

“Okay,” Bill assented in a weak voice. He set his hands against the tile wall and the move thrust his ass back toward Tom.

Tom grasped at Bill's right rear cheek, his left hand continuing to stroke reassuringly over Bill's hip. He kissed the inside of Bill's right cheek, nuzzled against it and brushed his nose into Bill's wet crack, and licked his way into the center of shower-damp skin.

“Tom!” Bill moaned. He did his best to hold still and his legs trembled.

“Mmm,” Tom responded, burying his face into Bill's cleft. The vibrations coursed through Bill and his legs shook harder.

“Ahhh,” Bill wailed, rotating his hips and exposing himself even more, reaching back to spread himself open for Tom.

Tom's cheeks moved against Bill's flesh, his seeking lips curving in a smile imprinted against his skin. The hot firmness of tongue traveled lower, circling Bill's most private area. 

Bill made a series of happily incoherent noises as Tom lavished his tongue on Bill's hole, licking and sucking at it as though he were frenching it. One of Tom's hands traveled from stroking Bill's hip to grasp his dick. He began to pump it, making Bill writhe all over again.

“Tom..ahh!” Bill shook, trying to pull away. Tom grabbed at his hip, snaking his other arm around the outside of Bill's thigh to lock him in place, and the fervent wet noises continued as he breached Bill with his tongue, pressing it in and undulating it and making Bill shout. “Tom, wait. Wait...unnh...I want to come together!” He reached down behind him to snare a hand in bunched dreadlocks to show Tom he meant it.

With a low chuckle, Tom pulled away. He set his teeth into the meat of Bill's left buttock and nuzzled him again, giving him a rough kiss.

"Oh," Bill gasped, his breath fluttering in his throat. "Put it in me, god, Tom; put it in me now."

Tom kissed his buttock again, planting his lips closer to the crease. He slipped a finger into Bill's spit-slicked hole and stroked inside him, rubbing it back and forth.

"Fuck," Bill cried out, and his knees began to buckle. Tom's curling finger went for his prostate with the ease of familiarity.

"Okay, okay." The finger retracted and Tom got to his feet, grabbing the hand rail again and gathering Bill to his chest with his other arm.

Bill turned around and panted softly against Tom's cheek, leaning against him and rubbing his dick against Tom's hip. He began to kiss his way to Tom's mouth.

"You sure you want to do that?" Tom questioned, turning his flushed face and lifting his chin a bit.

"Shut up," Bill grumbled affectionately, winding an arm around Tom's waist. He kissed Tom's mouth, whimpering as Tom nibbled at his lips and licked his way inside. He took Tom's cock in hand and stroked it, adding the wrist flick at the end that he knew Tom liked.

"Let's take this...ahh...back to bed," Tom said, hand skillfully easing foreskin over and back around the tip of Bill's dick.

“Yes,” Bill whispered, throbbing in more than one place now and very anxious for what came next. “I want you in me, Tom. Please, I want _you_ in me – I've been waiting so long.”

Tom's eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he seemed to hold his breath. He opened his eyes and grinned over at Bill. "All we need is lube," he said.

"Oh." Bill's eyes widened. "Oh! Back to bed."

"Yeah...forgive me if I don't pick you up this time; you're kind of slippery..."

"...when wet," Bill filled in the sentence, and laughed, scampering out of reach when Tom groaned and reached for him. He gave himself a brief towel-down, enough to set himself tingling all over, and tossed the towel at Tom as he fled back toward the bed, leaving wet foot-prints in his wake for Tom to chase after.

Tom followed in hot pursuit. "You're gonna get it," he vowed, catching Bill in the last stretch and making a long arm, toppling Bill onto the spread instead of pulling him against his body.

Bill squirmed and thrashed – carefully, as a stray flail could put an end to all the fun and games – and rubbed up against hot, hard flesh behind him. "Tom," he groaned.

"Mmmf," Tom responded, thrusting against him. He fumbled his cock between Bill's legs and thrust again, easing it back and forth between Bill's thighs, snuggled tight beneath the crease. They'd done this before, too, getting off together when Bill was too sore for Tom to enter him but they wanted to be able to kiss as well as enjoy other loving touches.

"Yes...ahh...wait, wait, put it in," Bill commanded, grinding against the bedspread.

The muscles against the backs of Bill's thighs went tense. “Yes. Okay. Yes...god, I want you too much.” Tom thrust against Bill a few more times slowly before pulling away. He smoothed a hand over the patch of skin above Bill's cleft. "On your back?"

"Oh, yeah," Bill recalled. He sucked in a considering breath. He flipped over and gave Tom a happy grin. This could parallel their first time, too. He told Tom softly, "No tears."

"Only if you're crying happy," Tom said, hovering over him a moment longer. He leaned down to rub their noses together before kneeling up over Bill.

Bill reached a hand up after a trailing dreadlock. “Take the tie out, too?” he requested.

Tom nodded, reaching to snap the band with an impatient hand. Shaggy loose dreadlocks cascaded down his back and across one shoulder as he stretched out to one side of the bed, reaching for the lube that they kept out in brazen display atop the bedside table. There was a box of condoms beside it, now empty, no longer needed.

“It's never too much,” Bill whispered in response to Tom's earlier complaint, 'want you too much,' as Tom settled onto the bed beside him, propped on one elbow and leaning in for another kiss. “As long as it's you, it couldn't possibly be too much.”

Tom leaned in and pressed their foreheads together for a moment before tipping his head, laying his mouth on Bill's in one of the tenderest kisses they'd shared. They traded increasingly heated kisses as Tom pressed into him finger by finger and Bill squirmed against him, anxious for more.

At last, Tom worked four fingers in and out of him and Bill broke their kiss, delivering a quick nip to Tom's chin. “One day,” he breathed, “I'm going to get you so riled up that you'll put it right in with no prep.”

“Only after I've already had you,” was Tom's rejoinder.

Bill sucked Tom's lower lip into his mouth, stabbing his tongue in and around the piercing. “Maybe I'll get myself ready for you, first.”

“Nnn,” Tom moaned, and rolled Bill flat onto his back, disengaging his hand and rubbing full-press against him. “Oh my god. You can't just say that.”

“I'm going to _do_ it,” Bill insisted, satisfied by the response. “Live in fear. You'll never know, from now on, when I'll push you down and just sit on your dick.”

Tom moaned again and humped him a few times, his cock sliding hotly against the crease of Bill's hip. He groaned and reached down, rubbing it against Bill's dick, and they thrust together for a glorious moment. Bill hooked both legs up over Tom's waist and moaned with abandon as a jet of pre-come left him, painting a satisfying pattern over Tom's chiseled abs.

“Get _in_ me, before I lose it,” Bill pleaded.

Tom reached for the lube once more and propped himself over Bill again, slathering a dollop over his erect cock and hissing, because he hadn't bothered to warm it. Bill grabbed at Tom's biceps and bit his lip, waiting.

There was a pause as Tom set the tube aside, wiped his hand on one of towels that they usually kept handy around the bed, and they exchanged a long look. Bill knew his eyes were shining as he met Tom's intense gaze.

“I love you,” Tom told him, poised above him.

“I love you so much,” Bill whispered back. He stroked a hand at the curling-short hairs that twisted up from Tom's nape into the greater mass of his dreadlocks. “I'm so ready; please, please...”

Tom bit his lip and nodded. He reached down and set the head of his cock against Bill's entrance.

With a simple push, he joined their bodies.

"Ohh." Bill gave Tom a wanton moan by way of reward as the press of Tom's cock entered him, opened him up. It was similar to what they'd done so many times before, yet so crucially different. Bill imagined it was hotter, more vital...the slick feel of actual flesh penetrating him, itching inside him so perfectly the way nothing else did.

Tom's breathing grew labored as he held himself above Bill, moving slowly as he filled him.

"Yes," Bill breathed, grabbing Tom's shoulders. He curved his fingers but didn't quite scratch, urging Tom on with the tiniest of motions; hips, fingers, arching up to graze his lips within range of Tom's chin.

Tom pulled in a shaky sigh and worked his cock all the way into Bill, resting his weight atop him.

"Good?" Tom wanted to know, nudging his nose against Bill's.

Bill pushed up against him, grinning. "Yes... _yes_ , how is it for you?" He crossed his legs over Tom's lower back, squeezing Tom's sides with his thighs, tightening his buttocks and flexing himself down around the intrusion of Tom's cock.

"Amazing," Tom whispered, brushing his nose against Bill's one more time. He angled in to plant a kiss on him, groaned, and lurched back before pushing the entire length of his cock in again, burying his naked flesh and pulling out and burying it again.

Bill cried out as Tom rutted into him _hard_ , bringing their bodies together forcefully in a way that he rarely did – hard and fast enough that Bill knew his boyfriend had lost control.

"Ah, Bill, ah, oh god," Tom groaned, one arm holding him up over Bill as he fucked into him with desperate strokes. He brought his other hand to Bill's face, swiping sweat-plastered hair from his cheek in a quick caress before setting it beside Bill's shoulder and using his leverage to really work into him. "Oh my god, you feel so good."

Bill's toes curled and he squeezed his thighs around Tom harder, squeaking when Tom pulled out almost all the way and sat up onto his haunches. "Tom," he gasped, and the moan poured out unbidden when Tom manhandled him into a new position, shifting his hips up, pushing Bill's legs up toward his chest and angling them to the sides. He grabbed the join of Bill's hips and thighs and sat back on his heels before slamming his cock in to the hilt.

"Tommm!" the cry thrummed through Bill. He was a vessel; for Tom's dick, for his lover's name, for the incredible pleasure coursing through him and flowing back to Tom from where they were connected.

"Love you, god, love you so much," Tom responded, giving Bill deep intense thrusting from the new angle.

"I feel it," Bill moaned. He wiped at his face, not caring whether he smudged makeup all down it or not; he ran his hands over his shoulders and collarbones and thumbed at the nipples that Tom had licked and teased so recently. "Oh, god, Tom, I really feel you in there."

Tom nodded, head half-back, dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders. His eyes were narrow slits, mouth open, coherence fled as awareness bowed to the greater demand of pleasure.

Bill whined and clamped down on him, the sight of Tom driving him half-crazy with lust when he was already _there_ , so hard and throbbing, ready to spill at a moment's notice.

Tom shifted over him and started giving him rapid, continuous thrusts, pushing deep inside of him. He slid over and past Bill's prostate and stroked over it again and again.

"There...ah, fuck!" Bill moaned, throwing his head back. His eyes fluttered shut and he arched his hips up into Tom's never-ending thrusts. He wanted to last longer but his balls were tight, tingling. He'd been on the verge and Tom was pushing him over with the gorgeous slide of his naked dick in and out of Bill. He wanted to look down, he wanted to see it going in; he focused on Tom's cock and the way it _felt_ going in and thought about how Tom would spill inside him... "Tom, I'm coming!"

Tom nodded quickly and tongued at his lip, watching Bill through hazy, mostly-lidded eyes. "Beautiful...Bill, you're so beautiful when you come."

With a desperate wail, Bill bowed under the weight of pleasure and reached for his cock, giving it a few quick strokes as he began to release come all over his belly, and Tom's. Even as he came, he remained transfixed on Tom and the way his breath quickened as his brown eyes remained fixed on Bill; the way Tom's hands clenched on his thighs, gripping him tighter; how his thrusts sped as he looked down at Bill's face and tongued his lip. Moaning, Bill watched Tom watching him as he spent himself in one of the most all-consuming orgasms of his life. He reached up for Tom, fingernails scraping over Tom's corded arms, and tensed down on him.

"Bill!" Tom exclaimed. He spread him down against the bed and fucked into him hard, movements quickening as he entered the last stretch. A hand brushed over Bill's face again and Tom's brown eyes glinted at him from the short distance between them. Tom propped himself above him and stretched for a kiss, making Bill groan weakly as it pressed Tom inside him to a near-uncomfortable degree. Tom's lips lingered on his and one hand clutched Bill's hip as he rolled his hips in the slow, hot pumps that heralded his orgasm. He made a few desperate, low noises against Bill's mouth and his fingers convulsed against Bill's cheekbone.

Bill closed his eyes and shuddered, imagining that he could feel that, too – Tom's come inside him. He liked the thought; it made him hot, flushed, like Tom was marking him in another way, less visible but no less a sign of their togetherness.

Tom shuddered and collapsed onto him, hips still lazily working his dick in and out of Bill in idle spasms.

Laughing, giddy, still coming down from his own high, Bill wrapped his arms around Tom and nestled against him.

"You're inside me," Bill murmured, as Tom disengaged and grinned over at him, looking half-wrecked -and entirely satisfied. His lips trembled in a kiss as Tom came back into range, cuddling against him.

"Don't say something like that," Tom said, a grin in his voice. "That's sexy, way too sexy to be saying something like that, when I'm barely finished."

They wrapped themselves up together and Bill was entirely content. Until he remembered.

"Ohh," Bill moaned complaint, shoving his face into Tom's salt-sweaty skin. "Damn it, damn it."

"What is it?" Tom demanded, stroking Bill's damp hair away from his neck. "Are you okay, did I hurt you?"

"I wanted to do it front to back," Bill said dolefully. He raked his nails down Tom's side. "You're way too good at that."

"Doing you?" Tom responded, squeezing an arm around Bill tight.

"Yes, that too," Bill said with a laugh, kissing against Tom's neck, licking at the underside of his jaw. "Distracting me from getting my way with fabulous sex."

"Mmm, it was fabulous," Tom agreed in a degenerating sort of mumble that let Bill know he'd be out any moment. "We'll do your favorite...for round two."

Bill grinned and snuggled close into Tom as he drifted off. He began to shift this way and that in minute adjustments to make himself comfortable with his Tom-blanket before making a face. At last, unbelievably, he'd found the downside to sex without condoms.

"I'm sleeping in the wet spot," Bill whimpered. It was a wet spot unlike any he'd encountered before.

Tom snuffled and only held on tighter, rousing to kiss his neck. "C'mon, shift over toward me," he mumbled, shoving a fold of sheet beneath Bill's butt.

"It's, like, a _puddle_ of it," Bill said, awed. "God, Tom, you'd think we haven't had sex all week."

"We skipped this morning," Tom said, pulling Bill on top of him and kissing his neck again. He gave a low, satisfied laugh.

Bill grinned down at him, rubbing noses. "Think we can make it?" he asked softly.

Tom's eyes were hazy, out of focus. "Yes?" he replied. After a moment, he finished somewhat uncertainly, "Make it how?"

"You, me, a band?" Bill prompted, picking up the conversation from earlier.

"Oh...yeah, hell yeah," Tom said, sighing and snuggling into the bed-clothes, wrapping both arms around Bill and stroking low on his back. "We'll need a bassist, a drummer..."

"Together we can make it," Bill sang softly. He had a suggestion for bandmates, but would save it for outside of bed. He sighed and nestled against Tom's throat, inhaling his favorite scents, Tom and coconut wax and a fading woodsy note of cologne, all of it better now with the added bonus of fresh sex.

"We're going to need a lot more songs," Tom said, thoughtful. "Enough to make up a full set-list."

"It's music," Bill replied. He was confident now. Making music came easily to them, along with other things as delightful. He wondered if they could make a song about _this_.

"I bet we could write a song about you and me," Tom echoed Bill's thoughts in that uncanny way he sometimes possessed.

All the best songs were about sex, after all. "Make sure to leave my name out of it," he mumbled against Tom's throat as he drifted off.

His only answer was a kiss soft as butterfly whispers, and the drape of a possessive arm around him.

He dreamed of summertime, and a place where Tom never had to leave his side. He dreamed of the fire that blazed up between them that would always warm, never burn, and the hunger for Tom, for what they had between them, that would last them a lifetime, always blazing, never consumed.


End file.
